


Electric Touch

by Dorks_are_just_people_who_care_a_lot



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, sexy timez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28205658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorks_are_just_people_who_care_a_lot/pseuds/Dorks_are_just_people_who_care_a_lot
Summary: My collection of Peraltiago smutshots!
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 19
Kudos: 70





	Electric Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Work title is from Electric Touch by ARIZONA. Credits to whoever made the Peraltiago playlist on Spotify for giving me endless title inspiration!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I've only recently started posting in this fandom, but I received so much lovely feedback (and so many fun suggestions!) on my other story that I decided to make a place for me to dump all of my non-story related smutshots.
> 
> Inspiration for this one shot came from a story I read AGES ago that mentioned offhandedly that Jake likes to distract Amy while she watches Jeopardy. Also the whole "Daniel Craig, hands, closeup" incident, from which we learned that Amy definitely has a thing for hands...

Amy loves Jeopardy.

Jake knew this before he and Amy started dating, but he didn’t really get it until now.

It comes on at 7:30pm, and there’s usually at least a couple nights a week when she ends up working late enough that she misses it, but that’s fine because she records them all on her DVR (an ancient machine she keeps specifically for this purpose) and watches them when she gets home.

And sometimes she even _re-watches_ old episodes. Jake once asked her why she would bother doing that, since she’d already know the answers. This turned out to be the wrong question, because Amy fixed him with a stare and asked, “What, do you forget the plot of _Die Hard_ every time you watch it?” And Jake couldn’t argue with that.

The point is, when he and Amy started dating, they both brought elements from their typical evenings when they were single into their new shared evenings together. And for Amy, that’s Jeopardy. And Jake, for his part, tries his best to love it as much as she does. But as with most routines that Amy has, it doesn’t take long for Jake to find a way to change things up.

It’s a Tuesday night, and Jake arrives at Amy’s apartment around 7:15. Amy must have been standing by the door, because she swings it open just a second after he knocks.

“You’re back late,” she says, but she’s grinning, and she grabs ahold of his coat to pull him inside.

“Yeah, Charles and I randomly busted a robbery on our way back from a crime scene today,” Jake tells her proudly. “Ergo the extra paperwork.”

Amy kisses him, and Jake marvels at the fact that whenever he sees her, his heart still manages to beat faster. Three months in, he’s still amazed every single time. And he feels the echo of the many other times she’s greeted him like this; knows that at least half the time, they throw whatever evening plans they had out the window and stumble right into her bedroom.

But Amy pulls back after a moment, and Jake already knows what she’s going to say.

“Jeopardy’s on in ten minutes, and I just ordered food.”

“Jeopardy and food, two of my favorite things,” Jake replies, and Amy smirks. She walks over to the couch, leaving Jake to kick off his shoes (and of course tuck them neatly in the shoe rack) and hang up his coat.

Amy had the day off of work after doing an overnight stakeout the night before, so she’s already in her pajamas, an NYPD t-shirt and shorts. Jake pulls his tie off from around his neck and slips into Amy’s room, where he has a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants folded neatly in the top drawer of her dresser. They started keeping clothes at each others’ places within the first month; it just made sense, since they often came over straight from work. Jake’s never done that so early in a relationship before. There’s something exciting about it—about how quickly they’ve fallen into an easy routine. Between their busy work schedules, he and Amy have been spending almost every night together just sitting around in their sweatpants, the formality of fancy date nights mostly forgotten.

Jake wasn’t Amy’s stakeout, and he’s not working any cases with her right now, so they’ve barely seen each other the last couple days. The desire to be close to her is as strong as always, and he plops down next to her on the couch, trying to decide if they have time to make out in the three minutes before Jeopardy.

Amy is watching the muted TV absentmindedly as it plays through commercials.

“Who’s playing?” Jake asks her.

Amy smiles. Jake knows she likes it when he takes an interest in the things she enjoys.

“Greg, Liz, and Don. Liz is returning. She won yesterday with twelve thousand dollars. I think she’s going to continue the streak.”

It’s quite possible she says something else, but Jake loses focus for a moment, watching her lips. He decides there’s _definitely_ time to have some fun, and leans over to connect their lips, relishing in how good it feels. Kissing Amy always feels as amazing as it did the very first time three months ago. His hands gently nudge her shoulders backwards, leaning her back until her head meets the armrest of the couch.

“I missed you,” Jake says against her lips. He can feel Amy’s mouth curve into a smile. She’s just showered, and her hair is damp and smells like her amazing shampoo and she’s so soft and wonderful, and Jake just wants to stay here, kissing her, forever.

She wraps a leg around Jake’s waist and pulls down the zipper of his hoodie, hands gripping his shirt to pull him closer. Jake gently works a hand under the hem of her t-shirt to brush against the soft skin of her waist, and Amy lets out a little sigh. He manages to push her loose t-shirt up farther, and suddenly Amy’s hands are on the buttons of his shirt, and Jake is vaguely aware that they’re making the same mistake they always do—It always starts out with an innocent kiss, and ends up with their clothes littered all over the floor and him and Amy completely missing whatever else they had planned.

But Amy feels _so good,_ her hands on his chest and her tongue against his, unwinding him, melting all of the stress from his day right out of his body. Jake pushes the fabric of her shirt upward, fingers trying to touch all the bare skin he can find. As his hand skims over Amy’s ribcage, she lets out the tiniest whimper. And all Jake wants in the _entire_ world is to hear more of Amy’s amazing little noises. And he’s just working out his plan to do just that when _stupid_ _fucking_ Jeopardy comes on.

Amy breaks the kiss, letting her head fall back onto the armrest of the couch and turning to see the TV. Jake opens his mouth to complain, but Amy, sensing it before he can say anything, presses a finger against her lips. She doesn’t move to get out from underneath him, so Jake assumes she’s just pausing for a minute. He returns to work, lips traveling to her neck, then her shoulders, as he does his best to ignore the cock-blocker that is Alex Trebek, who is currently reading through the categories.

“Ooh, Literature!” Amy says suddenly. “ _And_ spelling? Oh I’m gonna crush this one.”

Jake looks up at her with a dramatic frown.

“What?” Amy asks with a smirk.

“Amy, I can think of something way more fun that we could be doing _right now._ ”

“More fun than _Jeopardy?_ ” She widens her eyes in mock surprise. “Jake, if you think you can offer a convincing alternative to _Jeopardy,_ you clearly don’t know me that well.”

“Au contraire, I think I know you _very_ well. In fact, I know the _only_ thing that could distract you from Jeopardy right now.”

Jake’s just joking around in their normal flirtatious way, and he’s absolutely prepared for Amy to tell him he needs to go take a cold shower or something and wait until her show is over. But to his surprise, Amy narrows her eyes at him with the cocky determination of someone who’s about to propose a challenge.

“Prove it,” she says, and raises an eyebrow.

“Distract me.”

Jake gets the message. And _oh, this’ll be fun._

_Distract Amy._

Over the past three months, he’s gotten to know Amy pretty well. In all different kinds of ways. And he’s _definitely_ learned what she likes in bed; all the places that make her squirm, the touches that make her moan. He thinks of it like a challenge really, because she’s not the most vocal person he’s ever been with, so whenever Jake can really get a sound out of her, one of her long, filthy moans that ring in his head for hours afterwards—he considers it a win. Through this strategy he has learned _exactly_ what Amy Santiago likes. And here’s an opportunity to put it to good use.

Jake’s lips work their way down to Amy’s jaw line, her shoulder, her collarbone, touching his lips to all the bare skin he can find. Jeopardy has started, and Jake, who usually at least makes an attempt to follow along, doesn’t even know what the categories are.

“Another word for good transported by train, truck, ship or aircraft,” Alex Trebek reads.

“What is freight!” Amy says immediately. “That’s too easy.”

“Congrats, you get two hundred points,” Jake murmurs against Amy’s skin, slipping a hand back under her t-shirt to rest on her stomach.

“It’s two hundred _dollars,_ not points,” Amy corrects, turning to look at him.

“Whatever,” Jake replies with a huff. “You got it right, now you get a prize.”

Amy gives him a look like she’s about to tell him that there are no prizes in Jeopardy either, but she’s certainly not complaining as his hand skirts its way up to her chest. Her head falls back to the armrest, her eyes focused back on the TV, and she seems determined to remained focused, but as Jake’s palm closes around her breast, he feels her chest rise sharply.

“Synonym for non-believer” is the next clue, and Amy knows the answer immediately.

“What is an atheist.”

“Another two hundred dollars,” Jake says. “You’re in the lead.” He punctuates his words by running a finger over her nipple, relishing in the quiet sound Amy lets out under her breath.

She gets the next two questions right, or at least Jake thinks she does, but he’s barely listening. He shifts his weight back onto his knees so that both hands are free to work under Amy’s shirt, his lips back against her neck, waiting for her to give up and pulls his lips to hers.

But of course Amy’s not going to give up so easily.

Next clue.

“A beastly term for a new, inexperience reporter.”

Amy pauses for a second before guessing.

“What is a cub?”

None of the contestants get it right, but cub is revealed to be the right answer.

“You,” Jake murmurs against Amy’s neck, his hands working gently against her breasts, “Are very smart, and it is _very_ sexy.”

Amy tries to shoot him a cocky smirk, but it’s accompanied by a long shaky sigh, and he just _loves_ knowing that he can do this to her. Because Amy Rule #1 that Jake’s learned is that she _loves_ when he compliments her in bed. Bonus points if it includes really complicated yet perfect grammar. Really, Jake thinks, she just likes hearing his voice, which works out well for both of them, because Jake’s always been a talker.

Amy gets the next three questions right, and Jake stops listening to the clues, focusing on his hands on her body, feeling his own body buzz as he works Amy up beneath him.

“Published in 1826, the second of the ‘Leatherstocking Tales’ is ‘The Last of’ these people,” Alex reads.

Amy, voice definitely a little shakier than when this started, nonetheless knows the answer immediately.

“Who are the Mohicans.”

Jake, who didn’t really think through how quickly this game moves, tries to come up with the next prize. He lets one of his hands work it’s way downward, resting flat on Amy’s stomach, and that gets her attention. She turns to look at him for a moment.

“Have I successfully distracted you?” Jake asks with a smirk.

“I haven’t missed a single question yet,” Amy shoots back. “This is an impossible mission.”

Amy should know by now that impossible is Jake’s favorite kind of challenge.

Jake doesn’t even notice that the show’s cut to a commercial break until he feels Amy’s hands on his cheeks, pulling him down until their lips meet.

“Oh, so _now_ you have time for me,” Jake jokes, and Amy rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Jake. Just learn your lesson now: nothing gets between me and Jeopardy.”

But Jake doesn’t care if he only gets the three minute commercial break; kissing Amy is the most amazing feeling in the world. Her hands run through his hair like they always do, and as his hand returns to diligently massaging her breast, he earns a small moan from Amy that makes his entire body feel hot and urgent. He can feel her body moving under him, worked up by his touches, and _Jake_ feels pretty distracted.

But apparently Amy isn’t, because, true to her word, she breaks the kiss when the show comes back on, separating her lips from Jake’s with a soft smack.

“Watch me continue my perfect streak,” she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“I hope you do,” Jake shoots back. “See what you win next.”

The contestants on screen are back to firing quickly through the clues.

“No eulogy required after doing this to a lede, placing it deeper in the story so the reader has to hunt for the main point.”

“What is burying,” Amy says immediately. Jake’s hand, which has just returned to her stomach, slides one inch lower.

Amy gets the next question, and Jake gives another inch.

Another correct question, and Jake’s fingers brush the hem of her underwear, and Amy turns her eyes on him, dark and intense. She’s biting her lip, like she’s stopping herself from saying something.

Next clue.

“Naturally, this Snoop Dogg tune mentions Seagram's & Tanqueray.”

“Uh…”

“Come on, you don’t know this one?” Jake asks. He guesses Snoop Dogg has never been Amy’s favorite artist.

Amy shakes her head, annoyed.

Jake’s fingers, toying with the hem of her underwear, still completely, and Amy’s head falls back onto the couch with a frustrated sigh.

Next question is a daily double.

Before he can even think about it, an idea pops into his head.

“Let’s bet,” he says. “One piece of clothing. If you get it right, I’ll take something off.”

“Fine,” Amy says hurriedly, and Jake notices that both her hands are gripping the fabric of the couch tightly. He let’s his fingers drift another centimeter past the elastic of her underwear, and Amy lets out a quiet _fuck._

“Rudyard's father J. Lockwood Kipling illustrated this 1901 novel with a very short title,” Trebek says.

Amy takes a moment before she guesses.

“What is Kim?”

This turns out to be correct, and Jake unbuttons his shirt, leaving him in his white t-shirt. Both of them are just waiting for the next clue, Jake’s fingers drumming anxiously against her skin.

“Close observation, especially of a suspected criminal or spy.”

_“What is surveillance.”_ Amy gets the answer out in less than a second, and Jake knows exactly what she wants to happen, but he’s enjoying this too much to let her rush it. His hand slips beneath the hem of her underwear to cup her, but doesn’t move his fingers. He hears Amy mutter something, and looks up at her.

“Distracted?”

“Not at all,” she shoots back.

Whatever the next question is, Amy doesn’t know the answer, and Jake feels her hips wiggle in frustration under his hand. His own fingers are twitching with anticipation. He wants to touch her, wants to do _everything_ to her, but he’s going to drag this out, whether Amy likes it or not.

She doesn’t know the next one either, and they both let out a whine of annoyance.

“Ames, just get the next one right,” Jake pleads.

“In 1964 this French author & existential philosopher turned down the Nobel Prize for Literature,” Jake hears. Amy’s answer comes out in a rush of air, like she can’t get it out fast enough.

“ _Who is Sartre._ ”

And Jake doesn’t wait to hear if it’s correct. His fingers finally slip between her legs, and Amy grabs Jake’s forearm and squeezes her eyes shut, losing focus on the TV for the first time. For a moment, the game is completely ignored, because all of the blood has traveled south from Jake’s brain and he’s too transfixed to stop. His fingers knowingly find her most sensitive spots, and Amy’s fingers into his skin as she moans, and Jake has the overwhelming urge to rip all of their clothing off and drag her to the bedroom, and do whatever he can to hear more of her _noises._

But somehow, over the pounding in his ears, he hears the next clue being read, and he has the control to slow his fingers for a moment, circling slowly. Amy’s whine is long and low, and she reaches a hand down to his wrist, encouraging him to go faster.

“Not so fast Ames,” Jake tells her. “You get another question right, you get another prize.”

“A ‘comma chaser’ is aka this 2-word person who prepares & corrects a newspaper's text.”

“Who is a copy _editor—fuck,_ ” Amy breathes, losing the end of her sentence as Jake crooks a finger into her.

Next question is daily double, but Amy doesn’t even bother to answer.

“I don’t care,” she huffs, pulling off her t-shirt and tossing it to the floor, leaving her bare chested. “Just _please_ don’t stop.”

Amy reaches out to grab a fistful of Jake’s t-shirt and gives a sharp tug, pulling him down to her lips, their mouths meeting frantically. Jake’s fingers slow down beneath Amy’s shorts, and she whines into the kiss, lifting her hips, following the friction of his hand.

“Ames,” Jake murmurs against her lips, and he’s barely got the breath in his lungs to speak. “Ames, you have to--” his words are cut off with another kiss. “You have to get the next question right.”

“To bring back someone to his original function or position,” Jake hears.

Amy sucks in enough air to get the words out.

“What is— _fuck,_ what is reinstate. Jake, _please_ …”

Jake, who’s not really sure about the rules anymore, runs his thumb across her clit with a firm swipe, and Amy mewls, her entire body arching. And Jake’s just about at the end of his self-control. Somewhere in the background he hears another clue being read, but he’s far too distracted by the long, low moan spilling from Amy’s mouth.

“Jake, I can’t,” she says. “I can’t— _fuck, Jake,_ I can’t answer any more I can’t… oh my God I can’t think straight _please._ ”

And her words continue, mostly jumbled, and Jake considers abandoning the rules right now. But he knows Amy, and he knows Amy’s _very_ turned on by rules, so with great pain, he slows his fingers one last time.

“Ames,” he murmurs, kissing his way along her neck, ignoring her long moan of frustration. “You can do it. Get the next one right, get the final prize.”

Amy’s eyes are squeezed shut and her breathing is labored, and Jake’s pretty sure she’s right on the edge, and the arousal spiking through his body is _painful._ And he really hopes she can get the next clue right.

There’s a pause of a couple seconds while some contestant on screen picks a clue. Jake’s fingers continue their lazy pattern between Amy’s legs, drawing slow patterns, pressing her hips firmly back down onto the couch.

“’Of all who give gifts these two were the wisest’, says ‘The Gift of the Magi’ by this author.”

Jake doesn’t know what any of that clue meant. But Amy, in a pained voice, says, “O. Henry.” For the first time, she’s apparently distracted enough that she forgets to phrase it as a question.

“ _Good girl._ ” The words slip from Jake’s mouth before he has time to think about them, and for a moment he wonders if it was a weird choice, but Amy’s hand on his neck jerks him down to kiss him _hard,_ and she moans, long and desperate, against his lips.

And it’s a good thing they cut to commercial after that, because Jake thinks Amy’s won the game.

He makes quick work of tipping her over the edge, adding another finger to the first one inside her, pressing firm circles against her clit. She whines, and it’s the filthiest sound Jake’s ever heard. “Ames,” Jake moans, trying to see straight, although he feels suddenly dizzy. “Amy, just— _fuck,_ Ames, you’re so hot, come for me Ames...”

He rocks his fingers into her a final time as he feels her come apart, finally.

Amy’s hands are everywhere, her moans in his ears are the only thing he can hear. Her fingers brush across the obscenely tight pants tent that he’s got going on, and the sensation makes his entire body shiver with pleasure.

Above him, Amy’s hands search frantically for something to hold onto as her orgasm rocks her body forward, rolling down her body and knocking the breath from her lungs. It’s overwhelming in the most amazing way, and Jake’s fingers continue to work beneath her shorts, drawing out aftershocks and shivers that come rolling down her spine.

She’s never been with someone like this; Who can work her up in minutes, make her body explode with just his fingers. Someone who takes the time to learn exactly what she likes and use it to his advantage. His words, _good girl,_ are ringing in her head, and she there’s no coherent thoughts in her brain, but she knows that she needs more of Jake. _Now._

But then _stupid fucking Jeopardy_ comes back on.

Jake’s fingers between her legs still, and Amy feels like punching something right now, because she knows _exactly_ what Jake’s trying to do.

“Okay,” she says, taking a steadying breath.

Jake smirks at her, slipping his fingers out from her shorts. And the loss of his touch is physically _painful._

“Still want to watch Jeopardy?” he asks, goading her into exactly what he wants her to say.

Amy’s body is still buzzing, and she’ll say literally anything right now to make this continue, so she allows herself to admit defeat.

“No, you win, Peralta. I would officially rather be doing this than watching Jeopardy.” To prove it, she grabs the remote control from the table and shuts off the TV.

Jake’s lips connect with hers in an instant, and Amy’s hand reaches down to pop the button of his pants, feeling warm arousal bloom through her body as Jake’s whine fills her ears.

“Your turn for a distraction,” she murmurs. And before she can say anything, Jake’s arms are around her, scooping her up and carrying her off into the bedroom as fast as his legs can take him.

_I’ll take “Best Boyfriend in the World” for $200._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave suggestions or ideas in the comments. Feedback is really what motivates me to keep writing, and I have been so inspired by the suggestions being left on my other story!


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